


Another Story for Another Night

by Lady_Cleo



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Firefly
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1260904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Cleo/pseuds/Lady_Cleo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men sit in a bar drinking. "A woman?" "Isn't it always?" “Actually, from time to time it’s a man, or a robot, or a goldfish… but yeah this time-” “It’s a woman,” they chorus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Story for Another Night

Two men sit in a bar, drinking. They wear matching expressions of adoring misery, as though they are tortured by the love of their lives. It turns out… they are.

The man to the right turns a little, dark hair flopping across his forehead as he notices the man in the mirror beside him. His tweed jacket rests one barstool over, and he’s fiddling with a strange mechanical device that occasionally glows at his drink. The man at his left has similarly doffed his long brown coat, and is twirling a Colt revolver in wobbly circles around his left index finger.

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and they spend a few minutes watching the other’s behavior before noticing a few odd similarities.

“Nice… ‘spenders,” Mal says, his drawl enhanced by the alcohol in his glass.

“Wha?” The Doctor’s brow wrinkles in confusion until Captain Reynolds sticks a thumb under one strap and snaps it. “Oh my braces. Right. Like yours, too.”

“S’that?” Mal points to the Sonic with the hand holding his drink, and a bit of the liquor sloshes over. He shrugs. “Anyway. That… thing of yours. What is it? Looks… shiny.”

“Oh s’my Sonic. Not really shiny, but it does light up. Can do a lot; can’t do wood though. If the bar decided to eat us, you’d have to shoot it with your shiny gun.”

“Well, my Colt ain’t so shiny as your Sonic... thing, but she gets the job done.”

Having exhausted preliminary conversation, they let out a sigh in unison, and stare at each other again. “A woman?” The Doctor asks.

“Isn’t it always?” Mal replies.

“Actually, from time to time it’s a man, or a robot, or a goldfish… but yeah this time-” “It’s a woman,” they chorus.

The mutual admission begins a tag-team discussion of the object of their affection.

“Got curly hair. Just… defies all logic.” “And hair products.”

“Most amazing ass in existence.” “’Specially in those tight pants she’s always wearing.”

“Crack shot.” “Has her own gun.” “Can make a weapon out of _anything_.”

“I shouldn’t really like that,” Mal confesses. “But you kind of do?” supplies the Doctor. They toast miserably and carry on.

"No matter where we go or what we go through..." "She always has my back."

“She’s got darkness in her past.” “But a smile that stops your heart beating.”

“Married to this… infantile genius,” the Doctor states, slowing a bit as he ponders. “A twelve year old, really,” Mal confirms, before having the same thought land in his head.

“And those… big brown eyes of hers,” Mal starts cautiously.

“Yea—oh. _Brown?_ ” The Doctor’s own bleary orbs go wide at this detail.

“Yeah. Why? Yours?”

“Green.” There is a rush of air as they exhale their relief.

“You said married?”

“Yeah. To my pilot. I mean, he’s great, but… eh. Hawaiian shirts and dinosaurs.”

“Ahh. Say no more.”

“ _You_ said married, too.”

“Yeah. To me.”

“ _Ohhh_.”

“To the women we love,” the Doctor proposes with a refreshed glass.

“May they never change,” Mal agrees, and they clink and drink and sigh.

At the back, two women have just walked in: leather boots, holsters, wild hair and burning ears. Every eye in the place brushes over them at least once, though no one is stupid or drunk enough (yet) to try getting in their way as they approach the bar, and the men they seek.

“Sir, we gotta go,” Zoe insists, laying a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Doctor, are you coming?” River asks, gathering up his tweed.

The foursome forms a cluster as the men pay their tab, swing off their stools and face the women summoning them away. Eyes blink and widen, and then… this happens.

“Mal?!” “ ** _Melody?!_** ” “River!” “Good night!”

**Author's Note:**

> because I liked the idea of a meet-up between the Captain and the Doctor, but didn't make it happen in "Firefly Song."  
> Note: unless specified, the tag-team convo in the middle goes however you like. it's just one talking and the other adding. I know who says what in my head; you can choose who says what when you read. 
> 
> hope you enjoyed it. comments are always appreciated.


End file.
